Not Over Yet
by sunny-historian
Summary: Done for English -- like 'em all! The morning after Hallowe'en, and Scout wakes up...


To Kill a Mockingbird - Final Chapter

  
  


When I wakened the next morning, a chill went through me before I realised quite why. Then I remembered the night before and realised the stillness and silence of the house.

I tiptoed into Jem's room and saw him lying there. How still he was! I almost screamed, but then Atticus had me, rocking me in his lap.

"Hush, Scout," he said over and over, "Hush, baby. He's all right. He's sleeping..."

"Oh, Atticus," I sobbed, "he ain't died? He ain't died in the night?"

"No, honey. He's fine, he's asleep. I've been watching him, Scout, I'd know if he died. He's all right."

I twisted around and off his lap and scrambled to the bed. Kneeling by my brother, I heard his slow,steady breathing. Reassured, I grinned at Atticus.

"He'll wake up soon? Gee minetti, what I'm gonna tell him when he does! He'll be so mad at me, he'll knock me over..." My voice trailed off as I saw Atticus' face. Returning, it rose to a shriek, "Atticus! What is it? What's wrong?"

"Hush, Scout. You'll disturb Jem. But honey, it might be a while until he awakes. Concussion's a tricky thing, baby, and he isn't going to wake straightaway."

"But then he'll be all right? His arm too?"

"His arm will be fine and he'll be all right... when he wakes... Scout, it's five o'clock in the morning - shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Okay. Call me when he wakes."

Having received assurance on this point, I returned to my room. I was still tired, but it took me some time to fall asleep. Despite what Atticus had said, I was horribly worried about Jem; wondering why he had breathed so slowly, why he had been so still, why Atticus had spoken so gravely and pretended that nothing was wrong. Atticus had never lied to me and I believed that he never would. But all the same, something wasn't right about the way he'd said that Jem would be all right when he woke...

"Atticus?" I heard Aunt Alexandra's voice as I was drifting at last into a doze. Sitting up, I listened.

"Has Jem wakened yet?" she asked. Atticus gave no answer, but she sighed. "I didn't think so. What exactly did Dr Reynolds say?"

"He has concussion and should wake early this morning... but he'd had to have a sedative, and with the concussion it was possible that it might cause a coma." Atticus' voice was grim, just as it had been when I'd asked. What did he mean?

"Is he..." breathed Aunty, "Do you think... I mean, oughtn't we to call Dr Reynolds?"

"If he hasn't awoken by eight, though that's only two hours. I must admit, sister, I haven't much hope; but we must wait. Think of Scout... She asked me if Jem would be all right and I told her, yes. I wasn't sure then, but I know now and it isn't fair to keep it from her. She trusts me, sister, and I can't betray her. He's too sick."

"A coma..." she whispered and I frowned. I'd heard that word somewhere - but whatever it was, it had to be bad. Atticus sounded lifeless, tired and old. They'd stopped talking but I lay awake for a long while, worrying. I worried all the more because Atticus hadn't told me. I couldn't believe that he hadn't told me. He'd said that Jem would be all right when he waked! He'd told Aunty that he hadn't been sure, but I didn't think of that. I couldn't believe it. But still, as he'd said, I trusted him.

  
  


Aunty shook me. "Wake up, darling! It's almost nine o'clock!"

"Jem?" I asked sleepily, struggling to sit up as I opened my eyes and trying to remember what Atticus had said.

"He... isn't awake yet, Jean Louise. We've called Dr Reynolds, but he won't be here until later."

"Is he gonna die?" I asked, remembering Atticus' bleak tone. I'd thought that Aunty'd looked anxious before, but now it was real fear.

"No! Jean Louise, no! Whatever... why do you think such a thing? Of course he isn't going to die... Now you'd better run along! Your breakfast's waiting in the kitchen and I've put a dress out for you."

I looked at the dress, a pleated affair in yellow sprigged muslin, and decided that Jem was more important. "Aunty, you sure he ain't gonna die? Atticus said somethin' 'bout he might not wake up for ages. You sure he's gonna be okay?"

She avoided my eyes. "Yes, we hope... I've got too much to do to stand here all day! Get dressed and have your breakfast."

  
  


I went over to Miss Maudie's as soon as I'd eaten breakfast. She knew everything that happened round the neighbourhood - she'd only baked one little cake. I sat with her on the porch as I ate it.

"What's a coma?" I asked through a mouthful of sponge cake. She sighed.

"Deep, heavy sleep, and you don't always wake up again. It happens when you get beaten up badly." We sat there for a minute in silence.

"Miss Maudie?" I asked as I rocked furiously in her chair, "Why's Jem got a coma? He's got beat up lotsa times before, 'n' nothin' happened."

"He hit his head, Scout, or Bob Ewell hit it for him."

"Is he gonna wake up?"

"We don't know..."

  
  


I crept into Jem's room. Atticus was sitting in a chair by the bed, fast asleep. It surprised me, but then I remembered he'd been up all night and all day with Jem ever since he got sick, four days ago. Jem was still lying on his back, unmoving. He'd hardly stirred since I'd first seen him that night, except that someone - Dr Roberts, I supposed - had straightened his arm. And he was pale now, pale as Boo Radley had been. I knelt down by his side, so that I could hear his slow, shallow breathing. It scared me. I'd known for days that my brother was sick, of course, but when I listened to him I realised it at last. He might never wake up.

I wondered what Atticus would say if I did manage to wake him up. Carefully, I took his shoulders and shook them. "Jem! Jem, wake up!"

He lay there as though he hadn't heard me. "Jem!" I cried and looked up to see Atticus behind me.

"He isn't going to wake up, Scout. We just have to leave him till he comes back on his own. I know it's hard, but it won't do any good shouting."

"Yessir, but if he hears us callin' him ain't he gonna want to come back? If I was lyin' there 'n' heard you all callin' me I'd wanna come back! Why ain't he gonna wake up?"

"Scout, he can't hear you."

"Can't we jus' try?"

It'd never worked when Jem or I'd tried to appeal to Atticus' better nature. This time, though, I suppose he was just as worried as I was for at last he nodded yes. I took Jem's shoulders again and shook him harder as I yelled with all my strength,

"Jeremy Atticus Finch! Yawl wake up right now, y'hear?"

He was silent and I began to shake, just as I had when Atticus had told us that Tom Robinson was dead. I knew as surely as anything that my brother was never going to come back to me.

I cried for the first time since the trial, sobbing into Atticus' shirt, turned away from the bed. I couldn't look at him any longer. And then a voice came from behind me.

"Scout, I do declare you're gettin' like a girl again. Why're you cryin'?"

"Jem!" I screamed as I turned and hugged my brother.


End file.
